


the beautiful boy who likes to draw flowers

by spellman (orphan_account)



Series: carry on countdown 2018 [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/spellman
Summary: I’m probably never going to talk to him, and he’s never going to talk to me; he has no reason to. What would I even say to him, anyway?‘Hi, you don’t know me but I work here and I think that the only thing more beautiful than your art is your face.’So, yeah, talking to him would be a terrible idea.





	the beautiful boy who likes to draw flowers

**Author's Note:**

> yo yo yo it's spenizzle comin at u with day one of the countdown  
> u can read this as simon or baz's pov (i haven't included any names)  
> let me know who u read it as!! i'd be interested to know
> 
> this is probably more of a coffee shop au than a flower shop but who cares

_This boy comes into the shop almost every day._

I catch myself staring at him, sometimes. He never buys anything, never orders a drink. He sketches the flowers most days, sitting in the window seat.

We’re not supposed to let people sit in unless they’re buying something, but I choose to ignore that. None of my co-workers have noticed him, and I haven’t ever mentioned him. It’s stupid − but he feels like a little secret that I like to keep.

_The beautiful boy who likes to draw flowers._

I’m probably never going to talk to him, and he’s never going to talk to me; he has no reason to.

What would I even say to him, anyway?

_Hi, you don’t know me but I work here and I think that the only thing more beautiful than your art is your face._

So, yeah, talking to him would be a terrible idea.

A few days later, I have a slightly less terrible idea. I scribble something that’s passable as mysterious and romantic, but is probably just sappy and stupid, before scrunching it up and throwing it away. Forget the note, I brew a pot of my favourite tea and pour a cup of it. It’s quiet in the shop, but he’s sat over there so I take it over to where he’s sat.

He’s drawing a hand holding a bunch of chamomile and it’s messy and sketchy but beautiful.

I set down the tea on the table next to him, and he looks up from his drawing.

_He’s more beautiful up close._

He looks confused,

_but still beautiful,_

And I remember that I should probably say something.

“I, uh- it’s on the house. From me. You’re− you’re always in here, I see you in here a lot and− here you go.”

He smiles then, he doesn’t look so confused.

_God, he’s gorgeous._

“Thanks,”

_His voice sounds like how flowers look._

I’m embarrassed at this point, so I just smile and nod and walk away.

“Hold on,”

I turn around.

_Is he talking to me?_

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For not, uh, telling me to leave, I guess? I know I never buy anything here,” he laughs nervously.

_Even his laugh is beautiful._

“Don’t worry about it.” I smile, and my cheeks are hurting,

_how bloody long have I been smiling for?_

I carry on talking, say “Your art is beautiful, by the way.”

And he’s still smiling,  _at me._

“Thank you. Nobody’s ever really said that.”

“Well it’s true. I’ve noticed that a few times, I, uh.” I grind to a halt. There’s no digging myself out of this one. “I’ve noticed  _you_ a few times.”

“Oh, really?” he raises his eyebrows a little, tapping his pencil on the table.

“Yeah,” I laugh sheepishly. “I just, um. I need to, uh. Get back to work.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you for the drink.”  _Still smiling._

“You’re welcome.”

And I turn to walk away again but I hear him talk again.

“Hey, could I− get your number?” he asks, and he’s smiling shyly, and

_oh my God there is no way in hell that the beautiful flower boy who sits in the window seat every day actually just asked for my number._

But out loud I say “Yeah! I− yes, yeah.”

And I swear,

_every flower on the planet just bloomed at once._

And he smiles again and the flowers are dancing in the breeze.

**Author's Note:**

> yay!! one day down, 29 to go!!!!!   
> yeet me some kudos n comments if you enjoyed  
> i'm lookin forward to reading everyone else's great works!!
> 
> follow me on tumblr @petticoatpiracy  
> stay cool u losers


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